The Solo Affair
by MLaw
Summary: Napoleon must facilitate the defection of two Russian scientists at a symposium in NYC. Illya must lay low avoiding the KGB while helping his partner masquerade as a scientist, as well as deal with his son being hospitalized. # 7 in the Saga-series AU
1. Chapter 1

Napoleon Solo and his partner sat at Alexander Waverly's conference table...the Russian looking a little pained as Waverly was puffing away on his pipe; making him a little nauseous from the odor of the tobacco.

Illya generally controlled his expressions and would often sit at these meetings with a dead-pan expression, but Solo knowing him all too well was aware of is partner's discomfort as he shifted in seat his several times.

"Mr. Kuryakin?" asked their boss, then repeated his name again..."have you heard anything I said?"

"Yes sir." Illya's eyes refocused." You were discussing the arrangements requested for a defection at the symposium at N.Y.U."

At first Napoleon thought Illya was distracted and was amazed as the man offered back the details on the main speaker and the expected KGB involvement.

A photograph appeared on the video screen on the wall behind Waverly.

"Dr. Vladimir Zakarov" Illya identified the man, "a high ranking Soviet physicist, purported to be involved in the development of directed energy weapons. He has indicated a desire to defect to the west along with his younger brother Mikhail, a scientist of lesser status than Vladimir but apparently involved in his brother's research.

"Normally Mr. Kuryakin, you would be the ideal candidate for this assignment but given the expected presence of the KGB you would no doubt be easily recognized...I am going to have Mr. Solo take the lead on this one; masquerading as a delegate to the conference. You will be on the scene Mr. Kuryakin in disguise however and there as a backup to assist should problems arise.

"Mr. Solo as a delegate to a Scientific symposium sir?" Illya questioned. "No offence intended but he does not have a scientific background. He will most likely have to navigate through some difficult situations and conversations doing so without arousing suspicions will be highly difficult for him."

"That is why you will be coaching Mr. Solo...helping him to bluff his way through as it were, until we can facilitate the defection of Drs. Zakarov...now I believe you have some tutoring to begin. Dismissed."

Napoleon walked out of the the office looking annoyed at his partner.

"You know just because you have a doctorate in quantum mechanics doesn't mean you should look down your nose at me? And what was wrong with you at the briefing...it was more than just the smoke from he old man's pipe bothering you?"

"Look down my nose...honestly Napoleon, there are times I simply do not understand these endless American colloquialisms that you use. Just what does my looking down my nose have to do with my degree...and doing so; would I not become rather cross-eyed if I looked down my nose?"

"You know if you're going to become an American citizen; I think I should be the one giving you some tutoring?"

"Napoleon I have agreed to become an American citizen; I have not expressed a desire to become Americanized."

"Well excuse me? To answer your question...looking down one's nose means to take a superior attitude."

"I did no such thing...I simply pointed out the fact that you do not have a scientific background and therefore might have some difficulties..."

"Keeping up?"

The Russian clicked his tongue. "Come to the office; I have several scientific journals and articles that you can at least read...they should help you with a bit of the jargon you will most likely encounter."

"Gee thanks Professor...homework." Solo made a face at his partner.

Kuryakin handed Solo a stack of about two dozen journals and periodicals.

"If you have any questions feel free to ask," Illya said with a smile, "there is a particularly interesting article on laser development and light refraction in the...

"Please spare me...and you never answered my question...what had you preoccupied at the briefing?"

"Demya has been sick...running a low-grade fever and they pediatrician is not sure what is wrong...it is very frustrating. We have not been able to sleep well as he is up half the night.'

"Sorry to hear that...I'm sure it's nothing; kids are pretty resilient aren't they? And after all look who he's got for a father...the king of quick recoveries?" Napoleon said as he snatched the magazines from him; making a hasty exit from the office.

Two hours later and quite a few cups of coffee Napoleon threw down a copy of the third journal he had attempted to read while sitting in the commissary. He finally tossed it aside in disgust as he realized his partner had been correct; this was going to be impossible for him to bluff his way though, even with coaching on this one.

He looked at his wristwatch suddenly realizing the time; dashing out of headquarters for a dinner date at Umberto's in the heart of little Italy. He would have time just to pick up flowers.

Napoleon walked up Mulberry Street to the door of the famed Italian eatery; being greeting there by the white-bearded Jimmy Baldanza, the manager.

"Ah Signor Solo," he whispered you are a little late; the beautiful Signorina has already been seated. I took the liberty of selecting a wine for you...a 1950 Barolo Marchesi di Barolo."

"Grazie Jimmy," he smiled at the man as he spotted his date waiting for him at his usual table. Napoleon had been coming to Umberto's for years...being well aware of it's connections to organized crime. Those un-named patrons knew his face and who he was and he knew theirs identities as well; but a laissez-faire attitude existed between them.

"Hey, everyone had to eat...and besides the mafia was not within purvue of U.N.C.L.E." he reasoned," at least not yet...until that time an unofficial truce existed.

"Sei bella come sempre_ you are as beautiful as always." he said kissing her on the cheek as he walked up behind her.

"I bet you say that to all your girlfriends Napoleon!"

"What girlfriends?" He said; handing her a bouquet of colorful flowers he had hidden behind his back...

"You are too good a liar...but you are spoiling me?"

"He paraphrased Christopher Marlowe in response..."but I would make thee a bed of roses and a thousand fragrant posies."

"And how is it that no woman has scooped you up yet Napoleon Solo?"she said flashing her smile at him." I find it hard to believe?"

"Until now there have only been three women that I have truly adored in my life, not counting my mother of course as that's a different kind of adoration...the first woman in my life left me because of my line of work, the other woman was never meant to be and then there's you...with your mesmerizing violet eyes..."

He took her hand kissing it gently. "Sei molto speciale per me...lo sai_ you are very special to me...you know that Josephina Isabella Maria Gabriella? Mia Bella_my beauty."

"Napoleon...why do I have the feeling you say that to all the girls? We've only known each other for what... barely a month?"

"So you're saying you don't have any feelings for me...have I made mistake?"

"Oh God...no no! I do have feelings for you, very much. I just was thinking of how fast this has all happened, that's all. What do we really know about each other. I'm a nurse you're a ...well I know I can't say it out loud."

"Bella...in my line of work; I don't have the luxury of time that other men do...I'm not even sure if I have the right to care this much about someone. I could be dead tomorrow; that's the way of things in my business... so things kind of get fast-tracked sometimes. How does that make you feel?"

"A little frightened not about the fast-track, but about the getting killed part... but then it makes me think of a particular quote, 'no thing is worth more than this day'...it kind of gives me a live for today feeling I guess?"

"Wow, not only beautiful but she quotes Goethe as well? So what do you want to know about me...keep in mind though I can't tell you about my job as that's classified and if I tell you then I'd have to kill you." he joked.

"Napoleon! That is not funny." she said punching him in the arm.

"Ow...Sorry, that's a kind of a joke in the trade."

Well I'm not in that business, remember? So tell me...where did you grow up...what about your family?"

"I grew up in East Hampton on Long Island; my maternal grandfather was an Admiral, dad's father was an Ambassador. We did a lot of sailing when I was young...in fact I have a 30 ft. sail boat that I keep anchored at the family compound. Dad is a retired military man...mom is retired instructor at Barnard College. I have three sisters, Stella is a year older than me; then there's Theresa and Millicent and a younger brother named Hannibal.

"Hannibal...that's as bad as Nap...that's as exotic as Napoleon." Bella corrected.

His eyes twinkled as she caught herself..."Dad being ever the military man had an affinity for great military strategists, hence mine and my brother's names. Though my brother and I both went in different directions; after my stint in Korea I ended up where I am now, so to speak. My brother is an attaché to the embassy in Rome.

I guess I take after dad since I became a man of action I suppose... where as Hannibal is a man of words following in graddad's footsteps. Unfortunately my brother and I don't always see eye to eye on a lot of things."

"But your sisters have such..."

"Normal names?" he laughed," Mom got to name the girls...she wasn't as pretentious in her choice of names as dad was. Two of my sisters are married but no kids yet. Millie the youngest is divorced with a daughter, my seven year old niece Amelia is quite a handful..."he leaned over whispering to Bella," she wants to be just like her favorite Uncle," he winked at her. Hannibal is single...like me."

"Then of course, there's my extended family so to speak...my partner and his wife; they have a two year old son. In fact you met my partner's wife...Miss Mc Gowan...well actually she's Mrs. Kuryakin.

"Oh the red head? Now...she's a feisty one."

"You can say that again...perfect counter point to my partner who is the very brooding Russian type."

"Russian like he is from Brighton Beach or Russian as in he's from the Soviet Union?"

"Your second guess was the correct one."

"Wow, now there's a combination a red-headed Irishwoman with a bit of a temper and a moody Russian..."

"You can say that again," he laughed," but you never can tell...they are very happy together."

"I didn't think people in your line of business would get married?"

"Well until very recently we were not allowed to...they ah, Kuryakins were a special case."

"Now I know I don't have to tell you about my family," she said, "...knowing what you do for a living; you probably have the skinny what side of the bed I sleep on?"

"Well... not quite. But I did have to do a little background check on you before we started seeing each other. It's kind of precaution we have to take now. That is one of our new policies...we had some bad experiences recently. One never knows...especially when one is dating someone outside of the company?"

"I understand...it never hurts to be careful.

"So that doesn't bother you either?"

"Nope." she answered. "So you're encouraged to date co-workers...that's different? Most companies frown upon relationships from within."

"We're not exactly your ordinary, everyday kind of company...essentially, they figured someone from within the organization would be more understanding to the lifestyle. But there have been some policy changes recently so things are easing up a bit."

"O.K. Signor et la Signorina!" Baldanza announced himself; arriving with the antipasto bruschetta, pancetta and freshly baked grissino bread."

"Ah grissino...you can't get this in too many places," she smiled as she tasted a piece.

"They bake it special for me...did you know that it was the favorite bread of Napoleon Bonaparte? He called it 'le petite batôn de Turin...Je troue cela délicieux_I find it delicious."

"Vous parlez Français Napoléon...wait that's silly of me...you're named Napoleon; why wouldn't you speak French?" she laughed softly.

"Oui Je ne...que mon partnaire insist sur le fait que mon accent iet terrible_ Yes I do...though my partner insists my accent is terrible."

"Well I like it...I think it's very sexy." she said pouting her lips.

"Oh boy..." he thought to himself; trying to behave.

"Maybe Bella one of these days I'll take you to home to meet the family, I don't get to see them myself except on some holidays."

"Really? You must be serious...where I come from it's a big deal when the boy brings the girl home to meet his family?"

"Guess I am?" he said leaning over and kissing her.

"I don't think you're quite ready to meet my family yet?" she giggled, "they can be a handful...a big Italian family from Brooklyn that is. I have twenty cousins just on my mom's side of the family and forget how many on pop's! And then there's Grandma Graziani..."

"Hmm...maybe you're right. I think that could wait for a bit to meet Grandma?"

"Oh my God...you're scared."

"Ugh...yeah? Grandma Graziani...don't tell me, black dress hair pulled back in a grey bun and a look that could kill?"

"Yup that's Grandma."

Baldanza arrived with their second course of porcini risotto, followed by the main course of Sardinian stuffed eggplant and bucatini carbonara, then for dessert esspresso and freshly made cannoli.

After dinner they took a little stroll through the neighborhood then Napoleon drove Bella home to her apartment in Park Slope, on the western section of Brooklyn only about a fifteen minute ride, but he stretched it out to a half hour; driving slow with the top down as it was a nice night and traffic was light.

He saw her to the front door. She finally got up the nerve to ask him to come up to her apartment.

Napoleon surprised himself when he declined; kissing her goodnight as they stood together on her front stoop...then he waited until there until he saw the light in her apartment window turned on. Napoleon walked back to his car with a smile on his face. Telling himself this had to be serious...after he turned down this beautiful woman's invitation to go upstairs with her.

Solo arrived at headquarters in the morning; turning the hook in the dressing room to open the entrance to reception where he was greeting by Heather.

"Hey handsome...so what gives? All the girls are getting lonesome. No one has seen hide nor hair of you for weeks now?"

"Sorry Heather...I've been a little pre-occupied," he smiled as she pinned his badge to his lapel. He noticed his partner's badge was not there. "Can you tell me where Illya is?"

"Sure, Napoleon...he's in research. Did I hear right...he's going to become a citizen?"

"Last I heard... thanks Heather."

The woman waved at him with a hopeful look in her eyes as he walked through the rear entrance.

Napoleon finally caught up with Illya; pulling his partner aside to discuss the dilemma of the science symposium...

"And how long did you look at the journals that I gave you before you went out last night?"

"I know you don't want to believe it but I tried reading those things for a few hours...that was when I realized how futile it was. You were right; there's no way I'm going to be able to remember enough of this to sound barely credible."

"So you gave up and went out? I have been having to listen to complaints from all the girls that you have been neglecting them as of late...as if complaining to me is going to help? I cannot believe that you have sworn off women; so who is she; if she is not from headquarters...another airline stewardess or two perhaps?"

"My aren't we being the nosy Russian...I recall when you used to complain when I'd fill you in on my dates?"

"I guess I became so accustomed to it; that I have missed it I suppose. So spill your stomach contents..."

"Illya that's spill your guts...and no not this getting back to the assignment... suppose I wear a remote transmitter and receiver, with you listening in and just giving me the right things to say through an earpiece. Kind of like what we did when you were forced into playing that game of high stakes Omaha high-low poker in New Orleans...remember I coached you through the game; you won enough hands to buy our passage to South America to chase after Emory Partridge?"

Illya finally looked up from his books as he was studying the fundamental of United States history and government for his citizenship.

"Yes I recall that worked quite well...I think this solution would do the same for this assignment. I will be able to remain out of sight while doing this; thereby reducing the odds of my being recognized...this is a very good plan Napoleon."

The day of the symposium arrived; Napoleon Solo found himself lost in a sea of white lab coats as he headed towards the forum for the the first lecture of the morning. At the moment he was fairly safe at not being engaged in any sort of conversation...it was after the lecture that the discussions would begin.

Napoleon dressed in his own lab coat, a bow tie and a pair of black-rimmed eyeglasses, heard his partner mumble as he bumped into him..."clever disguise."

The Russian was barely recognizable as he had colored to a dark dark brown, wearing a false moustache as well as his own wire-rim spectacles and was dressed as a janitor, with a broom and dustpan in his hands.

"The difference between you and me," whispered Solo, "Is that I make this look good." He straightened his white coat; not even looking in the direction of the Russian. "Have you spotted them yet?"

"Not yet...but I have found out which room they are in number 324; no doubt there will be at least one guard. Vladimir is scheduled to speak in a half hour...you will need to try to approach him when he has concluded his talk to let him know we are here. There will be only a small window available to meet with colleagues, then he will be returned to his room. That is probably where his brother is being kept. He is to give you his itinerary... once we have it then we can decide when and where to make the move."

Once Zakarov's lecture concluded, Illya would disappear into a nearby janitor's closet, offering him safe coverage to prompt any conversations that his partner could not avoid.

Napoleon found himself zoning as Vladimir Zakarov continued with his lecture...recognizing a few of the terms from reading Illya's journals but the bulk of it was lost on him.

"Another problem with laser development is that evaporated material from the the target surface begins to shade. There are several views to this problem...induction of a standing shock wave in the removal of material from the the surface of an object by vaporization or other erosive processes as the shock wave continues to create damage. Secondly scanning the target faster than the shock wave propagates..."

Finally the lecture concluded "Here we go,"Solo whispered into his microphone as he headed toward the crowd that was gathering around the Russian scientist.

He heard the Illya's voice in his earpiece."Understood."

As Napoleon approached Zakarov another man pulled at his sleeve; asking him a question...

"So what do you have to say about beam absorption?"he spoke with a German accent.

Napoleon hesitated for a moment...then repeated word for word what his partner told him to say.

"Well a laser passing through air can be absorbed or scattered by precipitation...fog, dust or similar obstructions that a bullet could easily penetrate..."

"Oh yes." said the German," the wasted energy could disrupt cloud development...and impact wave would create a tunneling effect."

"Just agree Napoleon," Illya told him.

"Absolutely...I agree completely. Now if you would excuse me I need to have a moment with Vladimir...he's an old friend of the family."

Solo greeted Zakarov in Russian then giving him the code phrase in English. "I hear the rains on the steppes are heavy this year?"

Zakarov's eyes widened a bit, then he answered with the proper response."It will be difficult for the Cossacks to race their horses."

Vladimir suddenly dropped his notes in front of Napoleon; the agent instantly reaching down retrieving them for the man...but palming one sheet of paper that the man pushed towards him.

"I am sorry," said Zakarov with nervousness in his voice," I do not have enough time for questions at the moment; perhaps after my lecture at one o'clock?"

"Vozmoshno, spacibo Vrachu_perhaps, thank you Doctor." Napoleon begged off.

"You know your Russian accent is almost as bad as your French," he heard in his earpiece.

"Snob." he muttered; swearing that he heard Kuryakin laughing in the background.

"O.K. round one...meet me in my room. I have the itierary."

Napoleon headed up to the second floor; a few minutes later there was a coded knock at the door and he let his partner in.

"Damn! We have a problem, " Napoleon said looking at the paper," it's blank...he must have given me the wrong document!"


	2. Chapter 2

Illya took the paper from his partner's hands holding it up to the light; examining it carefully and looking at it at different angles. Then suddenly handed it back to Napoleon as he grabbed his handkerchief from his pocket; sneezing violently.

"You can't be allergic to a piece of paper?" Solo blurted out.

"Dno," Kuryakin sniffled, "The janitor's closet that I was hidden in at the college was full of cleaning chembicals and dust," he blew his nose again." Napoleon...you are full of hot air, just get close and breathe heavily on the paper. I suspect it is invisible ink."

He clicked his tongue at the Russian's comment then took a deep breath; exhaling on the document. A minute later handwriting in a light brown ink appeared quite clearly.

Solo looked it over..."Well will you look at that?These guys have to complicate matters don't they? It's not written in Russian but it looks similar, can you read it?" he said handing it back to his partner.

"Tse tomu, shsho tse vona Ukranïns'koyu." said Kuryakin.

"What?"

"I said that it is because it is in Ukranian. It says luncheon at one then both he and his brother are scheduled for a round-table discussion for an hour, beginning at three o'clock. Again a brief time to meet with colleagues after the discussion. Back to their hotel rooms ...then they leave at five for a dinner engagement out on the north end of Long Island at the Russian Consulate quarters in Glen Cove Mansion, then back to the hotel by midnight for lights out."

"Tomorrow Mikhail lectures at one, Vladimir at two, then another round table at four. Then dinner after which they are scheduled to head out to Kennedy for their return light to Moskva at eight o'clock."

"That gives us an opportunity at the college...we could cause a disruption during the round table and get them out in the confusion." Illya suggested."Or we could go to their hotel room while they are at the round-table secure the premises...we can take their guards by surprise and absconde with them once they return to their room."

"Or we can take them on the way out to Long Island." added Napoleon," or the way back."

Illya rubbed his tired eyes."This is making me perturbed; all too easy and too many options. When it is easy; there is alway trouble."

"Stop your worrying will you? Why do you always think something will go wrong?"

"Because my friend...it usually does?"

"Not always! So of the three scenarios which do you feel the least fatalistic about? Napoleon smiled.

"The round table...of course," Illya said," distraction would be the best recourse...less likely to have a physical confrontation with KGB."

"If I can cause enough confusion perhaps cutting the power and hitting a fire alarm...the emergency lighting will help us see but will also contribute to the chaos...Then you grab one brother...I grab the other and as Elliott would say...Bob is your Uncle and Fannie is your Aunt."

"Good, that's what I thought too...and how the hell is it you can get British colloquialisms and not American ones?"

"Because they make more sense to me and do not forget I refined my useage of the English language in the British Commonwealth?"

"Illya...you've lived here longer than you lived in England."

"Precisely" the Russian smiled.

Napoleon didn't get that one at all; at the moment he was not in the mood to try and figure out his partner's circuitous response.

The delegates gathered in the main conference for the first round-table discussion of the day...and as Illya feared something was already was going wrong. Mikhail Zakarov

was not present as their schedule had indicated he would be.

Illya swept the carpet with his broom and dustpan glancing around carefully; looking for any sign of the man but had no success...he ducked behind a large palm tree contacting his partner.

"Napoleon...Mikhail is not there. I have a bad feeling they will be keeping the two of them apart for the entire conference; by doing so KGB decreases the odds anything will happen as they know one brother would not leave without the other."

"I suggest we proceed with the plan as we discussed as the KGB would not expect an attempt while the brothers are separated," Napoleon answered." I'll get Vladimir to tell me where Mikhail is, then you can go get him while I get Vladimir to the safe house. Then you can meet us there."

"Agreed. Illya looked at his watch. I will cut the power at precisely three-fifty eight...just make sure you are seated directly next to Vladimir. Remember...once I leave the janitor's closet I will not be able to prompt you in the discussions as I will be seen, so you will be on your own."

"Just don't take too long?" Napoleon said.

Illya settled into the janitor's closet; pulling out his communicator taking a moment to contact Elliott while Napoleon was on his way to the conference room.

"Mc Gowan here."

"Annushka how is Demyachka...I am worried about him?"

"Illya, I didn't want ta risk contacting ye. Don't get upset... but we're at the emergency room. Demmy's temperature was going up. The pediatrician recommended...well if it got too high; he could convulse. It was not an actual emergency; it was done as a precaution alright...please try not ta worry, he's in good hands."

"Der'mo," he cursed, looking at his watch."Elliott I have to go...I will call you back later."

Napoleon positioned himself to the right of Vladimir Zakarov and leaning into him; whispering into he man's ear.

"There's going to be a distraction near the close of the round-table...I need you to be ready to move quickly and stay with me."

""What about my brother?"

"Where do they have him?"

"They are holding him in a reading room on the second floor."

Napoleon whispered into his transmitter. "Got that?"

"YES! Got it!" Illya answered with an extremely agitated tone of voice.

"You O.K. tovarisch?"

"Fine...just let me listen in to what is being said alright?"he answered being very oddly short with his partner.

Vladimir had already begun the the discussions as Kuryakin listened in carefully, trying not to let the news about his son distract him.

"You see the fundamental physics of high power fibre lasers do not differ from the experimental communications fibre laser...varying in only their power levels in the 1.5 micron to 1.8 micron range..."

"My country," said a delegate from France," is hoping to

develop a single fibre laser mode output of 1 kiloWatt...this would pull the technology into the domain of viable weaponry."

"Napoleon...say the following," Efficiency of the design would be limited by the effieciency of the pump laser." Solo added his bit as the converstion went on ad nauseum.

Then an American scientist added." Ah, but someday we will have laser output on the order of 100 kiloWatts or more..."

"Preposterous!" Illya blurted out, which was immediately repeated by Napoleon.

Illya realizing that he needed to back that statement up told his partner to argue the point thusly..." to achieve this, the power per firbre must be increased and optical hardware to combine the output of multiple HPFLS is necessary... effectively cooling the pump lasers and the HPFL spools are required..."

"Quite right,"said the German as he lifted his spectacles to his forehead; peering at Napoleon's name tag.

"Dr. Solamente...is it? How is it I have never met or heard of you before? You are quite learned in the field and are very current on the latest theories..."

There was no help from Illya at this point as Napoleon glanced at his watch, seeing that it was a minute before the power was to be shut down.

"Umm lucky I guess?" Napoleon smiled weakly.

Illya stepped out from the closet carrying his broom and dust bin again sweeping the carpet before turning to head around the corner to the corridor where the circuit breaker panel was located...but as he turned; he walked straight into a man that had suddenly appeared behind him...

They were both started for a second, then the man glared at him...but with a look of recognition.

"Illya?" the auburn haired man spoke his name.

The Russian lowered his head a little...then adjusted his voice, speaking in broken English, with an Italian accent.

"No speaka gooda Englisha...sorry. Non capisco_I do not understand. He kept up the pretense of sweeping the floor trying to

The man spoke to him in Russian,"Oh nyet...vy Illya Kuryakin. Kak vy mogli ne znat; menya, dorogay_Oh no...you ARE Illya Kuryakin. How could you not know me dear..."

"I know you Kiril Andropov..." Illya growled.

"So I suppose your are here with U.N.C.L.E. to do something with our scientists?" Kiril said drawing his Tokarov; aiming it at Kuryakin.

Illya let the broom and dustbin fall to the side as he raised his hands infront of himself slowly.

Napoleon looked as his watch nervously...Illya was late and the discussion had concluded. The delegates stood to leave and the KGB escort stepped over taking custody of Vladimir Zakarov.

"Damn!" Solo cursed to himself as he hurried out of the conference room in search safe spot to try and contact his missing partner.

Illya looked into Kiril's familiar blue eyes..."So what do you plan to do with me?"

"I could take you back home...repatriate you as I have heard you are now a defector. It does not surprise me that you let the western ways corrupt you...you were always the idealist and arrogant. You with your superior intellect always acting like you were better than everyone."

"No...not better. That is not true. What is true about you is that you were always jealous of me...since we were children. You could not accept the fact that you could not measure up." Illya suddenly quoted from the bible to Kiril...

"Were you not always the one who had been 'weighed on the scales and found wanting'...Kiril Andropov."

"Enough! I should just kill you here but either way you are a dead man...once the Directorate is done with you. You should only hope they show you mercy and send you to gulag!"

Kiril threw his head back; laughing wickedly at that thought and that was the moment that Illya took to strike out...ramming the heel of his right hand up under Kiril's upraised chin; sending the KGB agent reeling backwards. Illya dove at him, grappling for the Tokarov. He grabbed Kiril's wrist in both his hands; smashing it against his thigh again and again until the man released his grip on the weapon, letting it fall to the floor.

Then Illya took a full swing with his fist; punching Kiril in the face. The man spun around once in place as he crumpled to the floor unconscious.

"You will never change Kiril...over confindant as ever," Illya said as he dragged the man into the janitor's closet.

There he bound Kiril's hands and feet with extension cords and covered his mouth with a strip of silver duct tape.

"Illya where the hell are you?" he heard Napoleon's voice in his earpeice.

"I am back in the janitor's closet..."Illya answered then suddenly sneezed again,"unfortunately I ran into one of the KGB agents," he paused for a second," who recognized me. I just finished subduing him. I know I missed our window of opportunity...and now this one will be on the missing list; so the other agents will be alerted. So now things have become complicated...I told you it was all too easy."

"A salute_ to your health," he said in Italian as his partner sneezed. "Well then Mr. Cheerful...looks like we'll have to resort to plan B then," sighed Napoleon.

"And which is plan B prey tell?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"Oh good...I thought I had missed out on something important...Shall we regoup across the street at the hotel?"

"What else is there to do? See you there...I'll bring us something to eat."

Napoleon found his partner sitting on the bed speaking into his communicator when he arrived with a couple of club sanwiches and cups of coffee for them.

"Nyet nikakih izmeneniy?... Ua dolshen idti snova Annushka...Ya budnu nazyvat'vas, kogda ya v sutoyanii_There is no change?...I must go again Annushka...I will call you when I am able. I love you...stay strong."

Napoleon understood enough Russian to know that something was going on. "Illya what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he answered showing no emotion at all.

"Bullshit...something is wrong. Is Elliott alright?"

"She is fine...it is Demya. She had to take him to the emergency room."

Napoleon became alarmed."What happened?"

"His temperature began to climb...the doctor ordered it as a precautionary move; he was concerned Demya could begin to convulse."

"Oh Jeeze Illya I'm sorry...and you're stuck here."

"He is in good hands and his mother is with him," there would be nothing I could do if I were there I suppose...but I would still rather be there with him regardless. He is a brave boy but of course he told Elliott that he wants his papa...but then he wanted Boris as well?"

"Boris...who's that?"

"I brought him home a kitten. He has been asking about a baby brother and ah...I gave him the pet as a surrogate to get him off the brother issuse."

"A kitten...you gave a little boy a kitten? No...he should have a dog; a boy should have a do...sorry I keep forgetting you are afraid of dogs. You still can't get over that?"

"No."

Napoleon offered the sandwich to Illya who uncharacteristically passed on it with a wave of his hand...but he accepted the coffee gratefully.

Elliott sat in the waiting room for emergency patients at Mount Sinai Hospital...she was getting tired of seeing this place lately; feeling as though she had only been there herself, even though she had been released over a month ago.

"? "called the head nurse,"You can go in now to see your son."

Elliott walked to the cubicle where her son lay in his hospital bed...Demya was whimpering, looking so pathetic to her.

"It's O.K. Demmy, mama is here baby. It'll be alright sweet heart," she said as she rubbed him on the back.''

"I want my papa?" he asked quietly.

"Mne shal' moya malyshku...papa robotaet s Dyadyey Napolyeona_sorry baby...papa is working with Uncle Napoleon." she whispered.

"Boris?" he whimpered again.

"No Boris...kitty cats are not allowed here. Don't worry...we'll be going home soon and ye can see papa and Boris there." Elliott only hoped that her husband would be done with his assignment by then...

"Mrs. Kuryakin? I'm Doctor Miller," the resident introduced himself to Elliott.

"I've got good news for you...we've gotten your son's temperature down...now I have to ask you some questions. I need to know what childhood diseases both you and your husband have had...?"

"Oh?" Elliott said, a little surprised at the question.

"We're going to have to abandon the conference?" Illya said," Once KGB discovers where I stashed their man; he will tell them I was here and they will go on high alert."

"Then our best bet is to try to take the brothers while they're enroute to Glen Cove," said Napoleon," I know the area well...I grew up on the Island." He pulled out a map tracing the best route they would probably use to get to the Mansion.

"But there are other possible ways they could travel yes?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so...I would say tail them to Glen Cove, then we get them on the return trip as they'll probably take the same way back to the city. I'm sure they'll be feeling pretty confident since nothing will have happened on the the trip out there. Once we get the route then I'll figure out exactly where will be the best place to hit them."

"I will find their car in the parking garage and attach a homing devise," said Illya," that way we can hang back without any chance of being seen."

"Good idea."

Illya disappeared for about a half hour then changed from his coveralls to his black suit, tie and white shirt. Napoleon ditched the lab coat and headed down to the parking garage and waited for the Russians to arrive.

They arrived on schedule...Illya noting to himself that Kiril was among the six KGB agents accompanying the two scientists. He activated the tracking devise, giving them a bit of a lead before he pulled their black sedan out from the parking garage heading up on to Laguardia, then to Washington Square near the park...then they proceeded up to 34th St. through the Mid-town tunnel to I-495 the longest part of the trip that would take just under nearly and hour and forty minutes in traffic...if it was light then maybe about an hour. The two agents listened to the steady beep-beep of the tracking signal...Illya keeping about a mile or so distance between their car and the KGB vehicle.

They took the route that Napoleon had anticipated and continued to take I-495 out to exit 37 towards Roslyn.

Then a series of local twists and turns on a number of streets until they reached Glen Cove...a fairly affluent area.

Although there were several sections of the island that were well-too-do, including where Solo had grown up and his family still resided.

"You know...after this assignment is over I think I'd like to take a trip to see the family...it's been along time since I've been home. Maybe I'll take the boat out with..."

"with whom?"

"No one in particular," Napoleon smiled.

The two agents waited...back tracking to the town of Roslyn; parking their car and waiting hear the clock tower near the corner of Main and the Old Northern Boulvard, just as the road curved. The spot was fairly wooded along a long section of the road and sparely populated; making it the perfect spot for their ambush as there were no side roads for the Russians car to detour. The two men sat quietly in their car...taking turns nodding off; saying nothing to each other and just listening to the lonely tolling of the clock tower as it reminded them of the long wait they would have.


	3. Chapter 3

A flash of lightening off in the distance roused the two agents from their silence.

"Aw no...I hope it's not going to rain. This is a new suit," Napoleon grumbled.

"And if this one is damaged...how many will that make for this year?" the Russian smiled.

"Save the wise cracks...and this coming from the man who still wears the same cheap suit he wore when he came here from England?"

"There is nothing wrong with that suit..."

"Nothing that a dumpster wouldn't solve?"

There was another flash of lightning, this time illuminating the entire sky...followed by a loud thunderclap, then heavy drops of rain thumped against the car as the sky began to open up.

Illya was suddenly reminded of something he had all but forgotten about. "Napoleon...did I tell you of the thing that I saw that night I... killed Eric in the New Jersey Pine Barrens?"

"Not that I can recall?"

"I was down on the ground...Eric was aiming his pistol at me when this bizarre creature leaped out of the woods between the two of us. It's presence startled Lehrner enough for me to get a jump on him before it darted away into the dark."

"So what was it?"

"I do not know...it was about four feet tall covered completely in fur and stood on it's hind legs. The head looked very much like a goat with short horns and the creature had a pair of small wings? What could it have been?"

"My God...Illya you saw the Jersey Devil?"

"And what the devil is a Jersey Devil?"

"It's a legendary creature that walks the Pine lands. The story is a...local legend about a woman who cursed her deformed child and it flew up the chimney becoming a demon."

"Oh please Napoleon...I did not see a demon!" Illya laughed," there is no such thing!"

"Hey you didn't believe in ghosts until the night we were snowed in that hotel in Milwaukee?"

"True...I suppose some things are possible; we have both seen some very strange things and people in our years working together...but a demon?"

"Illya if you're going to become an American citizen; you should eventually read up a little bit about the things that make this country what it is...and I don't just mean it's laws. I mean the nitty gritty, the real America. Take the Jersey Devil story...that's a real bit of Americana and it adds to the picture as a whole. You had stories...legends where you came from didn't you?"

"Yes...like tale of the witch Baba-Yaga. But they were stories to frighten children and teach them lessons and not real."

"Are you so sure?Maybe the Jersey Devil is real and maybe it's not...but what I'm saying is that it's part of the culture. You and Elliott are not American, but your son is... for his sake maybe you should embrace a bit of what it is to be an American. We're a complicated idealistic people with a lot of influences from other cultures. I know it's trite; but the United States is the true "melting pot,"...maybe it's time you got to know more about "us"...that's all I'm trying to say."

A beep from the tracker drew both of their attention instantly ending their conversation.

"They're on the move early,"Napoleon said.

"Let us hope that the Zakarovs have not changed their mind?"

"What makes you say that?"

"KGB has seen me...they surely suspect the brothers of being up to something at this point. Soviet agents are very good at frightening people and I am sure they have tried to do so with the Zakarovs."

"Hey they made the overture to defect...we can't sit here and second guess if they've changed their minds." Napoleon said."

And tell me again...why was it U.N.C.L.E. that was tasked with this instead of the CIA?"

"I don't know?" Napoleon said realizing the same thing," We seem to be getting quite a few of these thrown our way lately...wonder what that's all about. I think I may have to take this up with the old man when we get back?"

"It may have something to do with me perhaps...being Russian that is? Katiya...the Zakarovs? There is that connection."

The frequency of the signal increased; telling them that the car was nearing their location. Illya quickly assembled his carbine, then stepped out into the rain; positioning himself to the side of the clock tower. There was a street light that illuminated the perfect spot where the Russians would have to slow to take the turn. There he would shoot out the one of the tires.

Illya pulled his communicator; opening it then clipping it to his pocket to leave his hands free.

"O.K. tovarisch there almost here...get ready," his partner's voice came over the communicator.

He could see the headlights in the distance as lightning flashed and thunder exploded immediately after it...telling the Russian the storm was right on top of them. The car slowed and Kuryakin took aim, firing a single shot into the tire. The car swerved, skidding on the wet roas surface as the driver struggled to maintain control until it pulling it to a stop.

Napoleon drove the sedan out; stopping it in front of them, blocking them on the road with the high beam headlights glaring at them; blinding the vision of the KBG agents.

Shots were traded back and forth...the U.N.C.L.E. agents using sleep darts dispatched the Russian agents quickly until only the driver was left...and he surrendered to them when he realized his companions had been taken down.

The Zakarovs exited the car with their hands raised.

"That won't be necessary," Napoleon called to them as he hit the driver with a tranquilizer round.

Illya stepped away from the tower; walking to finally greet his fellow Russians."Dobro poshalovat' v Ameriku...Ya Kuryakin Illya Nickovich_welcome to America...I am Illya Nickovich Kuryakin," he said as he offered them his soaking wet hand.

"Save the pleasantries for later...let's get out of here please?' Napoleon urged as the rain began to fall harder.

They hurried the two men into the car with them; then shoved the sleeping bodies of the KGB agents unceremoniously into their own car. Illya paused for a moment...staring coldly at the sleeping face of Kiril Andropov; then shook his head as he walked away from the man.

They arrived at the safe house in Brooklyn...deposting the two scientists safetly into the hands of the CIA.

"Thank you Napoleon and you too... Comrade for your assistance,"said Bill Klein. "so what's this I hear about you defecting Kuryakin?"

"I am defecting that is correct."

"Well it better be legit you little puke or so help me...?"

Illya's only response was a loud sneeze.

"Jesus Bill can't you cut him some slack?" Napoleon barked, " I mean the man just helped facilitate this defection for you at risk to his own life."

Klein snorted his reply as he escorted the Zakarovs to a car that ready to drive them to Langley.

"Embrace Americana..." Illya mumbled to his partner.

"Hey that asshole does not represent the whole country alright?" Napoleon chided his partner.

Illya shrugged his reply as he headed to the bathroom to clean up before heading to headquarters to debrief.

It was nearly two in the morning when they arrived, not surprised to find their boss still in his office.

"Gentlemen," said Waverly as he welcomed them to sit," so the defection I take it went well?"

"Yes sir...all in all it did," Napoleon answered."May I ask Mr. Waverly...why is the CIA having us act as intermediaries for their deals?"

"It is all about culpability and information sharing Mr. Solo...they need to keep their image as invisble and as sqeaky clean as possible...helping to maintain the righteous persona of the U.S. government. They will reap the benefits; while they pretend to remain free of guilt and the pointing finger of the Soviet government. Although I see this as just pure childishness...as it is a known fact that CIA is ultimately involved in all defections to the States."

"Now Mr. Kuryakin...I think your report can wait until morning as I understand your son is in hospital?"

"Yes sir...just a precaution I am told."

A secretary walked discreetly into the office... "I'm so sorry to interrupt Mr. Waverly but there is a telephone call for Mr. Kuryakin...it's his wife. She says it's important."

"Not a problem Miss...Meadows is it? I would say we are done for now...Mr. Kuryakin you can take the call here."

Illya picked up the telephone receiver. "How is he?...he has what?...no I have not. Really? Alright...I will take care of it. Lyublyu tebya_love you," he whispered, then hung up the phone.

"I am sorry...there has been a devlopment and I need to go up to medical to see Dr. Schneider...Napoleon, you ugh...may need to accompany me?"

"Well be on your way then gentlemen...it's late and though you may believe otherwise I do require sleep. You can fill me in on this tomorrow Mr. Kuryakin...good night."

"Thank you sir." Illya walked quickly from the room with his partner trailing after him.

"You going to tell me what this is all about...is Demmy O.K.?"

"He will be fine Napoleon...but best we speak to Max."

Illya sat on the exam table in medical with his jacket and shirt removed...

"Alright," said Max," symptoms...headache?"

"Off and on."

"Tiredness?''

"Always."

"Sore throat ...chills?"

"No.."

"Loss of appetite? he finally asked, but not expecting the answer the Russian, known for his voracious appetite gave him.

"Yes."

"But when you were eating...it was healthy as you were ordered, correct?"

"correct"

"Any sneezing"

"Yes."

"Whoa...O.K." Max clicked his tongue.

"Max palpated the areas behind Illya's ears and along his jaw line."No swelling that I can feel..."

Napoleon had stood by in silence during the whole process then finally spoke up..."Is someone going to please tell me what this is all about?"

"Napoleon," said Max,"Illya's son has the mumps... though I understand they first thought he had cat-scratch fever; given I take it there is a new pet in the family? But blood tests indicated otherwise... now according to my medical records; neither of you has ever had the mumps."

"Max that's a childhood illness isn't it?" Napoleon asked.

"Adults can get it too if they are exposed to to the mumps virus and it can be highly contagious. Some people don't have symptoms which can be quite dangerous as the virus in adults can possibly result in meningitis, pancreatitis or even deafness.

"Illya is exhibiting some of the symptoms...but not the typical swelling of the parotid salivary gland that's located in the cheek as well as the glands along the jawline just below the ears. In about thirty percent of males there can be Orchitis, a rather painful swelling of the testes. Incubation can take as little as twelve days but can take as long a twenty-five days for symptoms to develop. Napoleon has Illya sneezed around you at all recently?"

"Yeah but it was his allergies...wasn't it your allergies Illya?"he asked nervously.

"At this point my friend...I doubt it," the Russian said meekly with a shrug.

"Napoleon...any symptoms at all?'

"Not a thing Doc."

"Well let me do an exam and I'm ordering some blood tests and a throat culture for both of you... there really isn't a treatment for the mumps by the way."

"Oh boy oh boy...that's just peachy?" Napoleon mumbled.

"Well if you two have it...then it's acetaminophen and bed rest and unfortunately quarantine as I don't think Alex will take kindly to you infecting anyone else in headquarters?"

The next morning Illya Kuryakin and Napoleon Solo lay in adjoining beds in medical; having developed full blown symptoms of the mumps...swelling in the glands and other places.

Nurse Walsh had just finished taking their temperatures and had wrapped warm, moist towels around their throats to help with that swelling and ice packs for their...dignity.

"Ah Jaysus! Don't the two of ye look totally forlorn!" Elliott laughed as she walked into their room.

"Demya?" Illya croaked as his throat was now sore as well."

"He's fine...Illuysha...they're keeping him at the hospital for another day. Then he will be recovering at home. Now ye two I hear are cut off for a while; quarantine is it?"

"So how is it you aren't sick?" Napoleon asked.

"Because darlin' I've had the mumps when I was a child..." she smiled...Napoleon, ye have a visitor here to see you; she's waiting in the hall."

"...don't tell me Dolores?"

"Not quite." Elliott disappeared through the door, ushering the woman in...she wore an UNCLE visitors badge.

"Ciao bello_ hello handsome!"

"Bella...this is a surprise?"

Illya and Elliott glanced at each other smiling as Napoleon's mystery woman had finally been revealed.

"I ran into...Mrs. Kuryakin at the hospital and found out about her son...and your possible exposure. I just thought I'd stop by and offer my services to help you recuperate..."

Napoleon mustered a grin at that news, then sighed."well I guess introductions are in order...Josephina Graziani, you already know Mrs. Kuryakin, but this sickly specimen here is her husband, my friend and partner...Illya Kuryakin."

Illya nodded then whispered the word "pleasure."

Elliott grabbed the bed curtain and pulled it closed around Napoleon's bed..." We'll give ye some privacy I think?" she smiled.

"I can hear the rumour mills beginning to grind to a start already my friend!" Illya attempted to call to his partner, "now it is your turn!" his voice cracked as he tried to laugh.

Two weeks later Illya and Napoleon were symptom free and certified to return to duty. They had been informed by Alexander Waverly that there apparently had been an outbreak of mumps at the Russian Consulate and at residence in Glen Cove." He told them all this with a rather impish smile."Oh and there were a few cases at the CIA as well...Bill Klein among them. I thought you would especially enjoy that bit of news Mr. Kuryakin."

Ten days later, Napoleon had the weekend off as part of his rotation and decided to take that trip he had talked about to see his family in East Hampton...along with a guest.

He drove up the circular drive in his silver convertible to the front of the house parking in there as a sandy haired older woman walked out to meet him.

"Hello mom...how are you?" he smiled as he gave her a hug.

"Better now that you're finally home son...it's been far too long? And this is the friend you said you'd be bringing...?"

Bella stepped out from behind Napoleon with a smile.

"This is Josephina Graziani."

"It is an honor to meet you Mrs. Solo and you can call me Gabby...short for my one of my middle names...Gabriella."

"Gabby doesn't suit you at all...Gabriella is so much more pretty and dear me, aren't you the pretty one at that and such unusual eyes...but then my son has always has good taste in women. Now come on inside...you can freshen up and Napoleon can show you to your room. Luncheon will be ready shortly."

"Napoleon...your sisters are out back,"

He gathered up their bags showing Bella upstairs to her room and to the powder room..."come on downstairs when you're ready." he said showing her the french doors leading out the the veranda."

Napoleon left her in her room heading out back where he was greeting by the squeals of his younger sisters Milicent and Theresa.

"Hey big brother long time no see! Milicent said as she dove into her brother's arms.

Napoleon grabbed her spinning her around in a hug."Hi Silly Millie!"

"I'm a little too old for that doncha think? she laughed.

"Hey what about me...don't I count?" said Theresa.

"Equal time of course!" he grabbed her and gave her the same sort of hug he had given Millie.

"So where's Stella and Amelia?"

"They're down at the dock with dad...as soon as Amelia heard you were coming; she wanted to get the boat ready!"

A small blond girl came running across the yard from the direction of the water with her arms outstretched...

"Uncle Napoleon!" she said as he knelt, opening his arms to her...she knocked him backwards to the ground with her momentum.

"Oh sorry!" she giggled as she helped him to his feet.

"That's O.K. honey...wow look at you? Amelia, I swear you've grown a foot since I last saw you!"

"Not a foot... half a foot maybe?"

"Millie what are you feeding this child?

"Uncle Napoleon I'm not a child...I'm going to be eleven in a week!"

"Excuse me then... young lady...I'm sorry but I can't be here for your birthday but I have your present with me this time?"

"My birthday present...what is it?"

"Not a chance...you won't get me to break!"

"Not even if I torture you...you evil doer!" Amelia laughed.

"Amelia stop that!" a woman called out from behind her."Napoleon...you really shouldn't encourage her...she is not a boy!"

"Hi Stella...how are you?" he asked showing an obvious change in his demeanor.

She walked to him; leaning her cheek towards Napoleon, allowing him to give a quick kiss in greeting.

'I'm doing wonderfully...if you can call being stuck here again for the summer. Really...the only thing I miss about my marriage was the traveling! But now a days it just wouldn't do for a woman to travel alone!"

"It never stopped Aunt Amy?" he mumbled.

"Napoleon that was a different time...when women were respected and showed self respect. This ridiculous women's lib thing is so ridiculous. Imagine a woman having to work for a living...not even letting a man open a door for her!" Stella clicked her tongue in annoyance.

Bella appeared through the French doors to the veranda and Napoleon walked up, escorting her to the lawn.

Stella, Theresa...Milicent, this is Josephina Isabella Maria Gabriella Graziani."

"Hi...you can just call me Gabby for short." she smiled

"Ewww she's a cutie!... you call me Millie for short," she giggled.

"Hi Gabby, nice to meet you," smiled Theresa as she offered her a hand."

"Stella?"

"Yes...hello." she said taking a sip of her white wine.

"What about me Uncle Napoleon?"

"And this little firecracker is my favorite niece, Amelia."

"I'm named after our my great-aunt Amy...she died last year. And Uncle Napoleon...I'm your only niece!"

Napoleon repeated Bella's full name to Amelia...

"Wow...Napoleon and Josephina that's too funny!

"Amelia don't be rude!" snapped Stella." It's not polite to make fun of a person's name, especially when they don't have a say in it."

"No it's alright," said Bella,"I thought it was pretty funny myself when your Uncle and I first met."

"My other Uncle has a weird name too...it's Hannibal."

"So I heard," Bella smiled.

Someone cleared a throat behind them...announcing his presence.

"Hello son"

"Hello dad,' he responded, shaking his father's hand," Sir, I'd like you to meet my... girlfriend, Miss Graziani."

"How do you do Miss Graziani...I'm Darius Solo father to this reject."

"Dad?"

"Just joking son...I understand you are aware of my son's current line of work; though I would have preferred he made a career in military intelligence..."

"Yes sir...I know what he does for a living."

"And you still want to be his girlfriend...lady you've got guts?" said Millie.

"Everyone...luncheon is ready on the veranda," called Mrs. Solo.

They sat down to a meal of crab cake over salad as an appetizer and then sea bass with tomatoes, olives and capers, served with a Chateaux Cheval-blanc bordeax vintage 1960.

"How is that cute partner of yours? Theresa asked.

"Married with a son." he answered," realizing how long it had actually been since he's seen Theresa."

"That's a bummer."

"Sorry Terry, he wasn't your type."

"Yeah...but I bet he's fun in bed...the serious ones usually are. So Gabby, you sleeping with my brother?"

"Theresa...can't you control that mouth of yours...honestly, mother you need to have a talk with her again."

"So is he still a dyed in the wool Communist."

"Dad...please don't start that again?"

"So tell me Gabby how did you and my son meet?" asked Mrs. Solo; trying to defuse the tension between father and son.

"I was his nurse...I work in Mount Sinai Hospital in the ICU."

Mrs. Solo suddenly looked distressed."Oh dear you were't hurt badly were you Napoleon?"

"Remember mom we agreed to not talk about that part of my life?" he cautioned her.

She nodded to him, acknowledging his reminder...

"Oh Gawd! Another liberated woman...a nurse?"

"Stella...there is absolutely nothing wrong with a woman who has a job. I taught for twenty five years as you recall?"

"Yeah sis...you should try getting a job...you might actually like it?"Napoleon jabbed at his older sister.

"I think a nurse is cool,'said Amelia,'do you get to see a lot of blood and guts?"

"Amelia, dear not at the table please?" her grandmother politely reprimanded her.

"Met a lot of good triage nurses in my day...Graziani?" said Darius," I recall a General Rudolpho Graziani in Italy during the war...any relation?"

"No I'm sorry sir...all my family are from Brooklyn."

"Brooklyn?" repeated Stella with disdain.

Bella took note of it; not liking her tone of voice...she put on her best Brooklyn accent in response."Yeah, Brooklyn... Ya gotta problem wit it?" she said throwing her napkin on the table.

Before his sister could respond Napoleon spoke up..."You know...I'm pretty full from that delicious lunch. I think Gabby and I are going to take a little walk...I'd like to show her the boat."

"But Napoleon, we haven't had coffee and dessert yet...and I have the most wonderful tarts prepared." said his mother.

"No thanks mom...gotta watch the old waistline," he tried smiling as he patted his stomach.""Come on Gabby?he said helping her up from the chair.

"Can I come?said Amelia.

"That's may I come honey? he said," and not right now, I need a little private time with Gabby."

"Awww!"

"Amelia...help me with the dessert please?"

"Yes grandmother..." she answered' obviously disappointed.

They said nothing until reaching the dock...

"Napoleon I'm so sorry...that was awfully rude of me!"

"No Bella, you had every right to be annoyed...I should have warned you. Stella can be a real...judgemental person. She has a lot of issues and likes to lash out at people who aren't like her. The rest of my family is pretty...I don't know? Different? I'm sorry Bella, I'm used to them...I didn't think how they'd be to a stranger."

"Napoleon...they're not all that bad, trust me? When you get to meet my family; you'll hardly be able to hear yourself talk...they're so noisy. And arguments at the table...forget about it! You know that saying is true...you can pick your friends but you can't pick your family."

"True, true," he smiled wrapping his arms around her waist; pulling her into a deep, passionate kiss." Mmmm, that's better." he whispered into her ear as he nibbled on it.

FINIS


End file.
